The Void (The Walking Dead)
by TheWalkingDeadSeasonNegative
Summary: Shane barely survived the events of Hershel's farm before he found himself in the center of another hurricane. Luckily for Shane, he was discovered by two mysterious paramilitary fighters with an arsenal of weaponry and an armored vehicle to hide in. But Shane's heart is luring him back to the farm. He needs closure before he can finally move on. #TheVoid is the second part of the
1. Chapter 1

" _ **YOU DID THIS TO US! THIS WAS YOU, NOT ME!"**_

The words sprung Rick up from his far from restful sleep. Luckily, he did not disturb his family, who quietly slept. Carl snuggled warmly to Lori. Rick could see the foggy cloud escape from his mouth as he exhaled heavily. Sweat beads collected on his forehead and slicked down the sides of his face. _Damn you, Shane_ , Rick thought mutely. Rick's hands felt warm and sticky, as if Shane's blood still coated his finger tips.

Rick could see Daryl in the corner of his eye keeping watch for the camp. Hershel slept with Maggie and Beth and Carol slept alone but rather close in proximity to Daryl. The fact that the group was out there in the wilderness kept Rick up already and Shane making impromptu visits in his dreams weren't helping either.

"You still up, babe," Lori said groggily.

"Can't really sleep," Rick said, his voice was distant, and his eye contact was absent. It's been that way since the farm.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Lori as she freed her arm from under Carl's head. "What's bothering you?"

"Shane." Rick didn't elaborate; he barely wanted to talk to Lori, let alone about Shane. Rick stood and walked away, disconnecting from his wife rather abruptly.

There was a time Lori used to dream of the day Rick would quarrel with her. Most of the time he would merely cave to her demands. But since Shane's death, all they did was fight. But Rick's version of fighting didn't involve elevated voices. He beat you down with one word sentences and his distance. He made Lori wonder if he even loved her anymore, he wondered that himself.

Lori quickly followed behind her husband but made sure not to disturb a sleeping Carl. "Rick. RICK!" Lori hissed after Rick who finally stopped at the second time she called his name. "We can't keep doing this."

"Doing _what_?" retorted Rick with hostility.

" _This!_ Walking away, pretending…"

" _Pretending_ , what Lori?"

"Pretending we aren't married and I don't love you. Pretending that I didn't feel gutted when I thought you were dead. Pretending-"

"-Pretending you weren't with him," Rick swiped back. Daryl's ear perked, though not one to gossip, Rick and Lori's arguments were the only thing mildly interesting to watch.

Lori absorbed the blow; besides this is what she wanted. _Passion_. She wanted passion and fire back in her marriage; and now Rick was going to passionately curse her out. "I know you hate me right now, Rick."

"Hate _you_?" Rick retorted. "Everything is about _you_ , isn't it? When isn't it about you, Lori?"

The way he said the word "Lori" was patronizing. He wanted her to know how much she made everything about her. How she couldn't see beyond her dense bubble of selfishness. Rick, though outwardly hostile was still crushed.

"Are we going to do this right here and now? Is this where you're going to tell me how awful I was. How I betrayed you, how I shit on everything we built? Spare me your pity party, Rick. Look around us; we have bigger issues to worry about."

She wasn't wrong, as with most things, Lori could see the bigger picture. But Rick was too sensitive and this betrayal would be too much for him to bear. Of all things that Lori could do and of all the people she could do it with she chose Shane. In his mind it was borderline incest.

But something was bothering Rick even more so than these recent dreams of Shane. Lori's body language when Rick told her that he killed Shane revealed her true feelings for him. The way she grieved for Shane concerned him. Rick was already somewhat insecure by nature, but after this deceit, his esteem in Lori was nonexistent.

"Tell me something and don't lie to me," Rick warned.

"What do you want from me, Rick?" surrendered Lori.

Rick's eyes tightened along with the roundness of his mouth. "The truth." The scruff on his face slightly thicken by neglect tickled his face; Rick rubs his mouth and slightly leans into his wife. "I want to know, from _your_ mouth: Did you love him, even for a second?"

"Oh, God, no," Lori said as if it was a silly notion. "Of course not, Rick. I was alone and horrified, and Shane was all I knew in a world that fell apart. I made a mistake in a moment of weakness. I didn't plan for it or wish it, it just happened. So no Rick, I never loved Shane."

Lori was lying, though she never loved Shane, it wasn't a mistake at all. For many years Shane and Lori had a friendly relationship. Shane being Rick's oldest friend made him a constant presence at the Grimes' residence.

Lori and Rick weren't exactly social butterflies and kept to themselves, especially Lori. Lori found herself in a marriage that she only felt mildly satisfied with. After dropping out of college when she got pregnant with Carl, Lori believed she sacrificed her life to be a mom and wife. With very few friends Lori would often turn to Shane to confide in.

But now he was dead. Lori felt no reason to share with Rick the whole truth. That she and Shane had sex for weeks upon weeks. That she took off her ring because Shane said it was a distraction. She may not have loved Shane but he brought and excitement that Rick never had. He was a dynamic and aggressive lover; the things he would say to Lori would make her feel so sexy. She felt youthful again with Shane.

But Rick saw the other side of Shane, that dark void of hate hidden deep within him. It would seep out at times, Rick could recall a time when Shane unloaded a barrage of punches on a cuffed assailant. Yeah, there was a darkness in him. But Rick also recalled the time his father passed from cancer it was Shane that stayed with him. They cried together while Lori slept in the lobby with Carl. "Then you can never understand why I can't sleep. Because … I loved Shane and I hurt. And you can't fix that. It's just another thing _I_ have to live with."

Rick walks away from Lori again; Lori begins to follow him but stops herself. He needed his space and she needed to be with Carl.

Phillip was done with Austin and this piss poor driving; he was clearly drunk. "Pull over, you're too trashed. Let me drive."

"No police, no living pedestrians, how much does it really matter what my Blood alcohol level is?" Austin's tone was coarse, even when he was trying to stop drinking he didn't like being chastised.

"Austin, there could be living pedestrians but not if you mow them down—" Phillip's words were interrupted by the abrupt turn Austin made as he collided with a small group of walkers who piled into the middle of the road. The thick tires slid on the bones and flesh of the walkers as Austin attempted to regain control of the PYTHON.

He ultimately did.

"Good job, douche-rocket, I bit my tongue," Phillip complained. "Park it." Phillips voice was assertive and in no way was he asking. "I don't care if there were one hundred rotters outside those doors; you are going to park this piece of shit right now."

Austin complied, he could tell he was about to get yelled at. Luckily for him, he was drunk already, so most of it he would tune out. Austin's drinking had increased in the recent weeks, the closer the two got to Virginia the more nervous Austin became.

"Are you trying to kill us?" Phillip's hazel eyes darken by the night but Austin could see a faint glow of his husband's face through the darkness. They had become accustomed to speaking in the darkness like most lovers do. Austin and Phillip often conducted their missions in the darkness of night; shadows were the centerpiece of their relationship.

Austin initially wanted to just ignore the ornery, rhetorical question but since Phillip wanted to go there. "I'm just following your insane lead. Did we _not_ agree that we are not going to help people? 'Getting involved would put us at risk'. And what do you do? You go out in the middle of the night, find some friggin' straggler and next thing we know, we got fucking rockets firing at us!"

Phillip didn't waver from Austin's nuclear explosion because he had a rebuttal already prepared. "And _you_ know how long they were following us? They could have been on us of days; we weren't exactly looking for them. I guess our inconspicuous vehicle didn't attract unwanted attention. And you'd put that on _me_? You really are drunk if you thought that shit would fly."

And just as Phillip knew where Austin's weak spot hid, he too knew where to attack Phillip. "While you're picking up mutts off the street, you should be more concerned about Cameron."

Phillip knew when Austin drank he got petty, so he was prepared for this. But when he sobered up, Phillip would make him pay for that statement. "All I _do_ is think about Cameron and my mother, that's why we can't do this alone. Wacky shit is going to happen; did you not notice the apocalypse? There's going to be situations that we won't be able to just sashay out of."

 _Oh shit_ , Phillip thought of Shane and how talented he was, Shane was now even influencing Phillip's lexicon. "We are great as a team; we're _Ronnie and Clyde_ for Pete's sake. But this - this isn't like anything we've faced before. It makes the Sierra Leon Mission look like cake and as much as you think that everything is going to blow over in six months _you_ need to open your mind to that not happening. It's been well over six months already since "Patient 0" and they still don't have a vaccine. And I haven't heard dick from the government, have you?"

"You have hope that Cameron and your mother Barb are both alive, I have faith that our government is working on a cure."

"Fair enough," Phillip said with hostility peppering his words. Phillip turned from Austin and folded his arms; he was so upset that Austin silhouette was pissing him off.

"Are we pouting?" Austin teased. He was so sexy when he began to pout.

"I'm done talking to you; call me when your blood isn't 90 percent vodka. Perhaps you can think straight then." quipped Phillip.

Austin reached into the darkness and found a strand of Phillip's curly onyx locks. Austin loved Phillips long, thick hair, he toyed with the satin lock for a second. "Maybe the problem is my blood is all rushing to the wrong direction. I'm making these… impulsive decisions." He highlighted the word "pulse" in impulsive.

Phillip felt the heat build under his skin as Austin's hands traveled to his shoulder. He could feel Austin's strong hands massage his shoulder enticingly. Austin and Phillip may have problems - a slew of them actually. But the sex wasn't one of them.

Austin actually enjoyed when Phillip resisted, it was one of his favorite games. "I know you, Phillip. You're always on fire after a mission."

"There was nothing sexy about what we had to do?" Phillip said, somewhat melting into Austin massage.

" _I'm_ still sexy," Austin said before rising from his seat and caught Phillip's lips with a soft kiss. The kiss was followed with a more assertive kiss. Phillip was overwhelmed from Austin strength and weight, Austin pinned Phillip to his seat intensifying the kiss.

Phillip broke the kiss, he needed air. "Christ, you weigh a ton." Though Austin's body was comprised primarily of muscle, it was still a large form on Phillip's 5'9 frame.

"Hey, watch your mouth," Austin said as he playfully slapped Phillips thigh. "You don't want to be spanked do you?"

"You do recognize I am not an active participant," Phillip noted. "So you plan to do what: just take it?"

Austin collided his face into Phillips for another forceful kiss before releasing him from the embrace; he lightly bit Phillip's plump bottom lip. And in his smoky, Bed-Stuy voice Austin replies simply, "Yeah, I do."

"Fucking-A" Phillip said before pulling Austin closer for a kiss.

Shane knew he was about a three hour trek from the Hershel's farm but he knew he needed to take a quick break. Shane was weakened by the blood loss from his broken stitches. He knew he needed to take a load off before heading to the farm. Hopefully, he would be able to find a car to hide in for a few hours.

However all Shane could see was darkness and an open road. "Fucking great," he said under his breath.

The night was beautiful, the country wilderness chirped blissfully and the ink sky was adorned with stars. Two years ago it would have been just another beautiful night in Georgia but today it was a death march.

Shane wasn't sure what he expected to see when he got to Hershel's farm. Best case scenario everyone survived the attack. _Rick being dead wouldn't be so bad though_ , thought Shane. But Shane knew his luck and his luck was indeed shitty as of late.

With Shane's luck, Rick is probably sitting on the porch with his revolver, waiting for him to show his face. Lori is probably pouring him a glass of pink lemonade while Carl sleeps in Hershel's bed. _So what are you going to do when you get there?_ Shane wasn't really sure what he was going to do, he had an assault rifle, he could kill Rick but then he would have to deal with T-Dog, Daryl, and Hershel's family.

But then it hit him, there was no point in going back for Lori. Lori didn't love him, Shane wasn't even sure if Lori even loved Rick. The only person Lori truly loved, in Shane's opinion, was Carl. She was unable to see the shit storm she caused and honestly he knew she wouldn't leave Rick for him. So if Lori wanted to be with Rick, so be it. He just wanted to see that she was alive, that was enough for him.

Andrea, however, _would_ leave with Shane. Shane knew she was looking for a way out, but she was indeed unhinged. But hell, so was he. The plan was as follows: he would spy on the farm and see if it was even still there. He would also see if Lori was alive, after which he would find Andrea and convince her to leave with him right then and there. Hopefully, she would say yes.

In the slight chance that Lori was dead but Rick was still alive, he would at very least execute Rick. Rick wasn't allowed to live in a world that Lori wasn't in. That was the one rule that Shane would enforce no matter what. He had no problem with making Carl an orphan, assuming he wasn't dead already.

Shane's notoriously horrid luck began to change, he located a familiar scene. Multiple vehicles piled into both lanes of Interstate 85. "Sophia…" Shane said breathlessly. Shane managed to find the blocked road where the group lost Sophia, this is where things changed. When Rick lost Sophia the dynamics of the group altered. Shane went from group leader, to co-leader, to side kick and here is where it all began.

The Sherriff figured he would hold up in a vehicle here for a few moments and check on his wound. Shane also figured a few winks would do the body good; he lost a lot of blood thanks to Rick. He knew he would need his strength for the next phase.

Through the blackness of night, Shane could vaguely make out the letters spelling "LIPSEY" on the side panel of a large truck. _It's like being baptized, man_ , a flashback entered Shane's mind but he quickly banished those warm thoughts. Shane had found the water truck, again. _Perfect place to hide,_ he thought. All he needed was about an hour, but Shane couldn't help but sleep two.

Phillip may not have been sure about many things since the world ended. But he did know one thing was certain: Vodka, plus sex equals lights out for Austin. Phillip made sure to give him the "trilogy" as he put it, making sure they fucked 3 times back-to-back-to-back.

"Way better Trilogy than _The Godfather_ ," Phillip would promise.

"Of course it is," Austin would confess, "The last _Godfather_ was shit. But that's a win by default."

Phillip leans over to his sleeping husband to get a closer look. Austin let out a deep, wet snore, with his mouth open wide. _Yup_ , Phillip thought. Not even a stampede of snuffaluffagus couldn't wake up the sleepy Sicilian. Besides, Phillip figured he needed his rest, he was 42 after all. Phillip slithered away from the sleeping Austin and crawled to the back of the PYTHON.

Buster's ears perked with interest as he watched one of his masters crawling on the ground. The animal was perplexed, raising his head and letting out a curious groan. Phillip quickly retrieved his utility bag that was pre-packed with weapons, ammo, and other supplies. Phillip didn't need much, he would take his two berettas, two bowie knives, and one advanced M-16.

Phillip was careful not to make too much noise as he quietly put back on his combat uniform. Once he was completely dressed, he decided to go through the roof exit of the vehicle. Phillip knew the doors were very loud when you open and close them. He didn't want to risk it. Phillip carefully opened the roof hatch door, but before exiting Phillip looks at Buster sternly.

"Are you going to snitch me out?" Phillip asks the dog.

The dog lets out a small whimper before shoving his snout deeper into his paws. Phillip couldn't help but smirk, "Good, boy!" Phillip climbs through door with his bag of gear.

Killing ten walkers was no problem for Phillip. Phillip was so adequate with hand-to-hand combat with the living that taking on the dead was almost robbery. Besides the dead were occupied with an unlucky individual they were devouring. Phillip scanned the area and pretty much put the pieces together, the man was knocked off his small motor bike by the walkers who in turn tore him apart like monkey bread.

A sad day for him, but a good day for Phillip. Phillip picked up the small red Kawasaki motor bike; he made sure the tank had enough to get him where he needed before taking off into the night. A half of tank of gas should get him to where he needed to be.

Daryl smoked a cigarette as he looked out into the dark, hazy night sky. Daryl lucked up and found an entire pack of Newport's in the breast pocket of a walker. He was more of a Marlboro man but he could tolerate these. Rick hovered over Daryl, Rick needed space from Lori.

"Can't sleep?" asked Daryl, his mouth tightly around the lit cigarette.

"I could take watch," replied Rick, "You have been out here for hours."

Daryl let out a smoky scuff, "Even if I could sleep, I would still be _out here_."

"We gotta keep looking, there's a place out here for us. We start going house–to–house; most of these older style houses have gates or security. We're bound to find a place. " Rick could sense Daryl was more stoic than usual; he was already isolative by nature.

Daryl didn't exactly prescribe to Rick's belief in this fortress in the middle of the woods theory. Far as he knew, the best place to go is the mountain; Daryl had a hypothesis that walkers were generally repelled by high elevations. But like most of Daryl's ideas, he kept it to himself. However, the ghost of Shane still lurked over the group, it was only days since the farm was overrun. And Carol still whispered her suspicions regarding Rick to Daryl.

Dixon didn't really like Shane, but even through his madness, Daryl could see his logic. It was logical to head to Fort Benning, it made total since to kill Randall, and storing walkers in a barn was probably not a good idea, either. At least if Daryl could have found Sophia in the forest as a walker there would be some sense of closure. Closure for Carol, closure for him.

He didn't understand all the dynamics of the Rick-Shane-Lori love triangle, but he knew enough. He knew Lori and Shane were screwing, the entire group knew, minus the children. Daryl even caught the two once; fucking near the quarry. Once Rick returned things got far more complicated, Daryl knew things would end poorly. They had to.

He wasn't stupid; Daryl wasn't exactly buying Rick's spin of the events. Rick made it appear that Shane's death was for the betterment of the group, but Daryl suspected it had more to do with Lori. Daryl didn't see it as a lie but just a slight blur of the truth. Daryl was indeed distant from Rick, but he was distant from them all.

"Do you think about him?" Rick asked. "Merle, do you think he's still out there?"

Daryl had been so focused his survival that he all but forgot about his brother. "If anyone could survive it would be _that_ fucking, asshole."

"Does it ever keep you up at night?"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders, " _One_ of the things."

Rick gripped his revolver before finally planting himself next to Daryl. Rick looked into the horizon of the night and counted the stars slightly obscured by the grey clouds. "I want to hate him, Shane. And a part of me does, for what he made me do. He put us all at risk—he put my family at risk. I want to commit to hating him."

"If you hated him you'd be sleeping right now," Daryl noted.

"You're probably right," confessed Rick, Rick was surprised when he let a small chuckle out at the notion. "He was my oldest friend and I had to put a knife in his chest. Every since that night, everything has fallen apart. Not five minutes from the moment I ram that blade in his chest the farm got overrun. Was that fate? Or-or, was that God trying to say something?"

"Pretty fucked up God for letting any of this happen." Daryl never believed in religion and his suspicions were confirmed once the dead began to walk.

"Shane was a plague upon another plague. He was leading us down a dark path, a path that would have been drenched in our blood. We lost a lot of people back there, but with Shane in the mix, I know we would have lost even more. So why can't I get some rest?"

"You answered your own question," Daryl relit his cigarette. "What you did is _supposed_ to haunt you, if you're a good man. I never had friends, best or otherwise, so I'm not exactly an expert."

"I never took you for a philosopher, Daryl," Rick replied.

"Hell, sometimes I surprise myself."

 _Screw my wife?! Have my children call you daddy? Is that what you want?_ Rick's voice hastened Shane to consciousness. Upon opening his eyes he saw a dark figure beside him, before he could reach for his gun the figure finally spoke.

"Took you long enough, I was afraid that I was going to have to put a bullet in your head."

Shane focused his eyes, "How did you find me, Phillip? Better yet, _why_ did you find me?"

"Because I think dying out in the middle of nowhere for no good reason is aggressively stupid. And if you were dead, I wanted my uniform back."

Shane rubbed the baldness of his head before letting out a small laugh. "Self preservation, is that all you care about?"

"Duh," Phillip's voice somewhat light hearted. "If you die out here, it would be a waste. You know that don't you?"

"Die out here, die anywhere else, you're still dead. What makes you think _your_ situation is so sweet?" Shane was still suspicious of Phillip and Austin, all they cared about was their survival, so how does _he_ factor into this?

"Austin and I are great as a team, but I'm getting the vibe that two people can't handle _this_. We've lasted this long but after tonight I know we can't do it alone."

"And the _Mrs._?" Shane taunted. "He seems to have his own approach to our current situation."

"He thinks this world is just going to snap back together, I'm more of a realist. So are you coming back or not?"

"Not until I see the farm," challenged Shane. "If we go there and there's nothing there—then we can go. But before I go anywhere with you or him I want some answers."

 _Fair enough_ , Phillip was prepared for full disclosure. He had no problem talking about ATLAS but before he let his dark secret out, Phillip had his own questions. "My husband thinks certain data should still remain classified, I however do not. I will tell you everything you need to know about us, where we come from, what we're about—everything. But this confessional doesn't begin and end with me. Let's start with you: Who's Rick?"

Shane cut his eyes at Phillip; he had to start at the most sour of topics. "Fine, you wanna know, I'll tell you. Pull up your nylons, 'cause we're heading to the farm."


	2. Chapter 2

#TheVoid

Chapter 2

The Farm

"So you mean to tell me that you lied to your best friend's wife about her husband being dead, then you sleep with _said_ wife on multiple occasion resulting in a pregnancy. _THEN_ after the friend is reunited with his family that you attempted to steal from him you lure him into dark field in attempt to kill him? Am I following this correctly?" Phillip was astonished by Shane's story, how could someone who has been friends as long as Shane claim he was friends with Rick betray him in such an awful fashion? This made Phillip wonder if saving Shane was a huge error.

"That's not exactly how it happened," Shane argued, "You're just condensing it to make me look like an asshole."

" _Make_ you look like an asshole?" echoed Phillip. "You're doing a fine job of that for me."

The two men were still sitting in the tight water truck. By now a few walkers had wandered into the roads. It was only two currently, but Phillip knew their buddies weren't too far behind. The walkers were not only drawn to the living, they were drawn to each other.

During his confession Shane never looked at Phillip in his eyes, he was very embarrassed. Even providing his own spin to the events he still looked like the villain. The fact Phillip was able to lance through his wall of bullshit to locate the crux of the situation, much to Shane's dismay. Shane's smooth talking and bullying had no affect on the soldier. He also has extensive training in human psychology and Shane's narcissism didn't go unnoticed.

"It's your turn!" retorts Shane. "I've shared enough for one night, time for you to 'fess up."

"To what?" replied the coy Phillip.

Shane turned to Phillip, his eyes tighten to a scowl, "You promised. This isn't a game. You just twirl around like this isn't life or death. What's your fucking malfunction?"

 _Someone's testy,_ thought Phillip. The young soldier leans back in his seat comfortably with a pleased smirk on his face. "You think you're strong because you can turn it off-being human. You think that makes you more capable with dealing with our current apocalypse. Turning yourself into a golem doesn't make you strong, Shane. I smile, I cry, I sneeze. You want to know why: because I'm alive. You should try adopting that approach, or you could end up like them. Just because the whole world goes crazy doesn't mean you should join in." Phillip nodded in the direction of the walkers dragging their feet as they attempted to locate the men.

Shane scratched the back of his buzzed head before catching the gaze of Phillip. "What makes you think I wasn't always like this? Maybe I was always a bad guy."

"Bullshit," Phillip dismissed. "I thought we were being honest, here?"

"I've always fucked things up, I'm like a walking curse." Shane was surprised how introspective he was, for some reason sharing what transpired between Rick, Lori and himself made him feel better. A burden was lifted from his chest. But Shane realized something; he was the only one confessing anything. Anytime it was Phillip's time to share, he would find a clever way to redirect the focus back to Shane. "What are you?"

"I'm a waitress," Phillip replied coyly. Shane's frown, even through the darkness of night was very obvious. "I take it your weren't a _True Blood_ fan."

"No more games," demanded Shane.

"Fair enough: my mother happened to be of Irish and Welsh decent and my father was Creole. But based off your ever deepening frown, I don't think that's what you want to know."

"Not remotely," Shane replied icily, granted the racial identification did clear up a few things.

"I'm ATLAS or work for ATLAS, I should say."

"What the fuck is _'ATLAS'_? Some kind of military program?"

Phillip struggled with find the most condensed way of describing ATLAS. "ATLAS isn't a military program; the military is more of a prerequisite. Before you can be a full-fledged Operative you need to complete basic training with any branch of military from your country of origin. It more of a formality, people let veterans buy as much ammo as they want no questions asked. Gotta love that NRA."

"So you got _Operatives_ from different countries?" Shane's eyes burned with intrigue.

"Mostly American, but yes, we have lots of UK, Canadian, and Israeli support. We tend to keep ATLAS's work between those nations we have close ties. Or had. I'm starting to wonder if there are even countries anymore. You can't have country with no government or citizens."

"What is ATLAS?"

"We killed people, but that's not surprise. You've been watching me; I'm more than adequate at guerilla warfare. ATLAS hires the best of the best to take out the worst of the worst, well that's how it started. 'ATLAS' is actually an abbreviation of the founders of the organization, five very wealthy fuckwads who knew that you don't have to wait for war to happen. If you send in the right kind of killers, you can trigger whatever conflict you want in any place in the world."

Shane was lost, "What are you talking about?"

"Say America dislikes some murderous dictator in some armpit in the desert, but say America doesn't want to personally get involved but they know if you kill a few key figures in the opposition it could cause the locals to rebel. Then _BOOM_ , here comes America with the aid programs to lend their support and help oust said murderous dictator."

That sounds like a convenient spin and even though Walsh bled Red White and Blue, something felt sneaky about the actions of ATLAS, if what Phillip is saying is true. "Horseshit."

"Which part?"

"All of it," concluded Shane. "That's that tin foil hat, conspiracy theory bull shit. You mean to tell me that you what fly around the world taking out foreign dictators?"

"Well, over the last ten years ATLAS has been doing a lot more work with drug cartels domestically. The US government hasn't been very shy since 9/11 with putting their boot to another countries ass. This has actually cost us a little revenue. That's why they had us in Miami killing some fucking drug dealer."

"You were on assignment when all this went down," Shane referring to the zombie apocalypse.

"Me and Austin had been staking out Jefe Miguel 'Lo Lupo' Cortez in Miami. Somehow, even though being suspected of sex-trafficking, overt ties to the Mexican Cartel, Lo Lupo was allowed to live poshly in a South Beach neighborhood. He had a beautiful beach home that made more Imperial Beach townhouse look like low income housing in Newark."

"I ain't never been to none of the those places and I don't really give a shit. So ATLAS pays you a bounty, probably paid for all your fancy toys, and you help stir the stew of shit that was geopolitics."

 _Bingo,_ thought Phillip. Shane was smarter than Phillip first assumed. Like many New Yorkers, as soon Phillip heard Shane's thick southern brogue he quickly assumed Shane was ignorant. The irony of the though wasn't missed by Phillip. And with a small flair of a game show host, Phillip announces, "Show the man what he's won."

Lori couldn't sleep after that argument with Rick, but sleep didn't come easy for anyone. Both Glenn and T Dog were both up as well. Lori needed five minutes away the camp, she needed to let out her tears and she didn't want an audience. She requested Glenn watch Carl as Rick was still sitting with Daryl looking off into the darkness. Glenn, of course complied.

Lori needed to be alone.

When Lori was a younger woman she was an impassioned spirit but after Carl she experienced severe postpartum. Though she ultimately got through that storm, she never shook that darkness in her mind. Lori's depression became one of the biggest stressors in Rick and Lori's marriage, but she managed it the best she could.

One of her coping skills was just walking alone into the night. It was something about the moonlight that drew Lori and when it was full she felt she feel its radiance on her skin. And tonight the moon was waning but the largeness of the moon astonished Lori. She would travel too far and she made she her hands were clenched to her small revolver.

Lori still believed that life was still meaningful and that the current status of the world could not be permanent. She had to tell herself this because if she let any other thoughts in she would find herself where Andrea was. So Lori prayed and believed that one day the government would send in support and her family would be transported to some safety zone.

But what dreaded her more than the dripping faces of the walkers was what would happen after the world went back to normal. Would rick divorce? Rick's distance left frostbite on Lori; he felt closer to her when he was "dead". He was only with her now because of the baby, Lori felt more like a liability and less of a wife.

Lori could feel the darkness of the trees surround her, she felt at peace alone. Shane emerged in her mind again; this happened from time to time. As much as Lori did her best to deny her feelings for Shane outwardly, he left a mark on her soul. Being with Shane felt good, she felt alive. Lori began to shake her head, denying even to herself her feelings. Tears streamed down her face as she realized the horror she has caused.

Lori could feel her left arm roughly tugged, Lori let out a small scream before grabbing her revolver. "What are you doing out here?!" an enraged Rick drilled. "Why aren't you with Carl?!"

"Glenn is watching Carl, I needed some space. I needed to clear my head," explained Lori.

 _There she goes again, her needs_ , Rick thought spitefully. "Carl _needs_ his mother. Do you think I don't have anything better to do but watch _you?_ Make sure _you_ don't end up bit? Can you at least do us all a favor and stay with the camp."

"God damn you, Richard Isaac Grimes, you will _not_ talk to me like I'm some child that needs watching. I am your wife. And you _will_ show me the respect I deserve."

Rick scuffed disrespectfully, "Why don't you show some self-respect."

Lori had had her fill of Rick; all his guilting and side eyes. Lori slapped Rick aggressively across the face for his consistent disrespect. Rick's eyes intensified with rage and he approach Lori, closing the small space between them. Rick's stare spewed flames at Lori, but she was not backing down.

"Get back to the camp, Lori," Rick said, his voice gravely and dark.

"Don't you talk to me like I'm some child. How dare you grab me up like I'm some prisoner? Am I under arrest, Sherriff Grimes? Interrogate me? Don't you ever grab me like that ever again, do you understand me?" Lori's eyes matched Rick's intensity.

"Oh you don't have to worry, Lori," Rick promised his voice still smoky as he backed away, "I won't ever touch _you_ again."

And he never did. From that night until her death, Rick would never come into physical contact with his wife. Rick would barely look at her or even acknowledge her outside of the presence of Carl. And even when Carl was present he could sense the hostility. The next and final time Rick would touch Lori would be at the prison.

Shane and Phillip started to head west; the farm was no more than a mile ahead. Shane continued to drill Phillip about ATLAS, but Shane was asking all the wrong questions. At this rate, Phillip wouldn't have to release anything too classified. Phillip was somewhat surprised that Shane was such of fan of conspiracy theories.

"So you're the people in the Black Helicopters I was always told about" said Shane.

"I mean, yeah, I guess," Phillip said, somewhat astonished how unfocused Shane could be. "But I mean, there are a lot of black helicopters out there. At least there used to be."

"What's in Richmond?"

"Family," Phillip vaguely stated.

"Pfffftt…." scuffed Shane. "What the hell makes you think they're still alive?"

"They sure as hell have a better chance than these people on this farm," countered Phillip.

"How you figure?"

"Well, unlike this obvious graveyard _you're_ leading me to; the Honeycutt Estates are most likely still secured. It's built like a compound; you can't just get on the property. And it's not exactly in Richmond; it's actually located in Southampton County, seventy or so miles south."

Shane was perplexed; Phillip and Austin were planning on trekking one thousand miles to someone's house and expected it to be still there. What made this house better than everyone else's house that too got overrun? "What makes this place special? The farm was isolated, and that's what kept it safe."

"So are the Estates and there is a fifteen foot high wall, made of brick, that encompasses the ten acre property. The land was bought by my very wealthy, very racist, British descendants back in 1793. They decided to throw giant wall up in the fall of 1831; apparently there was a slave insurrection that really scared the locals.

"Even after the war of _**SOUTHERN**_ Aggression, they decided to keep the wall up. I used to spend Christmas there, between the fact the place used to be one of the biggest plantations in southern Virginia in the 19th century and the prison like walls, the place felt like a unique kind of hell. After my mom, I'm next in line to get that place. I used to have dreams about burning that place to the ground but now I'm praying to Christ it's still there."

It all made total sense, a property like that would be perfect. It's large, the walls are way too high for the walkers to climb and wouldn't bed no matter how many of them piled around the perimeter. Shane was somewhat digging this plan, "So we get to Virginia, you expect your people to be there, alive and kicking?"

"Well, my mother is supposed to be there with my son. The house did have staff, I imagine they would be there assuming they didn't flee to be with their families after the outbreak."

" _You_ got a kid?" Shane said surprised, Shane had not been exposed personally to many LGBT people let alone LGBT couples with children. "What, they adopted or something?"

Shane was starting to get a little too personal, so Phillip decided to turn the tables. "We got a surrogate, I'm the biological father. How many kids do you have?"

"None yet," Shane said, as the two men carefully traveled through the bush. "Had a 'close one' when I was in college, I persuaded her to get an abortion."

"How the hell did you manage that?"

"Trust me; it was for the best, for the both of us."

"Well no doubt, you're kind of a sleaze bag," Phillip said.

"The fuck you say to me," Shane said turning and posturing against Phillip. "You don't know me too well to be throwing insults around."

"Count up the points: You slept with your best friend's wife, possibly impregnated her, and then tried to murder said friend in cold blood. Yeah, I would say 'sleaze bag' is a light title."

"So all that stuff I told you, you just gonna throw it up in my face," Shane, his right hand gripped his hip and his eyes tighten. And with a classic Shane scuff, "Just like a broad."

"Hey, I killed people for a living," Phillip confessed. "No one is perfect, not if you survived this shit. There are no innocents left. You got to get grit on you to survive. My point is that you don't even realize how you got to this point. Do you even know why you wanted to kill rick? Why a man who was a known womanizer would do anything to sustain a one-sided relationship with a married woman?

"You just give in to a situation impulsively, that's very dangerous. It's probably why you got that knife in your chest that night."

"And you just know _everything_?" Shane's sarcasm was bluntly obvious. Phillip's pompous attitude was really beginning to chap Shane's ass. As far as Shane could see, all Phillip and Austin were just lucky. "What do you know about that night? Were you there, did you know Rick? Were you at his wedding? When his boy was born he called _me_!"

"Didn't stop you from fucking his wife, did it?" Phillip said with a dark grin etched across his handsome face.

Shane was fed up with Phillip snide, disrespectful remarks. Shane quickly drops his AK-47 and then fires a thunderous right punch. But Phillip figured that at some point Shane would swing; he was purposely pushing his buttons. He wanted to see how far Shane's rage went. Shane passed the test, had Shane simply attempted to fire the automatic weapon then it would prove Shane was just a murderer. And even if Shane elected to go that route, Phillip would have fired a bullet in his kidney with his berretta.

But Shane elected the nonlethal approach which meant Shane had some level of morality. Phillip was relieved. _He may just make the cut_ , Phillip thought. The Airman wasn't at all surprised that Shane would swing from the right, Phillip simply sidestepped the blow. Shane was now frustrated but he was not going to give up his mission to knock Phillip's block off.

Shane fired a two-punch combination but Phillip quickly negated and dodges the attack with ease. "Come on now, if you keep swinging like that you're gonna have to throw in the towel, _Rocky_ ," mocked Phillip.

"Are you gonna keep running your mouth like some Yankee twat," Shane spat back. "So why don't you shut your mouth and put up your fist, Little Richard."

Shane swings a three-punch combination finishing with a right hook that grazed Phillip's chin. "Hey!" Phillip angrily chastised. "You hit me in the _face!_ "

"Oh shut up, I barely tapped you," Shane countered; he would have preferred to deliver a much more assertive punch. His middle knuckle barely nicked Phillip's chin.

Phillip was infuriated; his silence was the first clue. Shane started to wonder if Phillip had a glass chin, it would explain all his mouth. He started to feel bad about his action, "Look, I'm grateful for what you done for me, honestly. But you have a way with wor-"

Before Shane could finish his statement, Phillip delivered a spinning roundhouse kick to Shane's face. Shane quickly fell to the ground with ease. Phillip was extremely satisfied, no one touches his face. But then it dawned on him that now he had to watch Shane until he came to. _"_ Well it was still worth it," Phillip said aloud.

He was only out for a minute in a half. "Jesus fucking Christ," Shane said as he tried to push himself off the ground.

"My mom used to say that so much I used to think "Fucking" was Jesus' middle name," Phillip confessed as he looked at the moon. "Got some bad news."

"What, you don't know how to throw punches so you're kicking like Chun Li?" Shane's head was still ringing from the blow.

Phillip was impressed. "I didn't know you knew pop culture and could engage in humor. But I am sure you won't find this funny. Look it." Phillip pointed out into the darkness and there Shane saw it. Shane could see the farm was still littered with multiple walkers. Shane's body immediately baked away at the sight of the dead.

"It's about thirty, give or take ten," suspected Phillip. "Well, we're here."

"It's gone, it's all gone," Shane's voice was defeated. Lori, Carl, his baby all devoured by the dead.

"You don't know that," Phillip snapped. Phillip refused to let Shane just give up just because things look grim. Because faith his all Phillip had left pushing him to Richmond, he wouldn't let Shane just give up yet. "We have to investigate, if everyone is dead, we'll know."

"I know," Shane shot back with pain in his voice. His heart ached, no matter what Lori and Carl did to him, Shane loved them. "Look at them, they're everywhere!"

"Yo! Lower your voice," Phillip hissed. "They could be barricaded in the house for all we know. They are slow so we can run around them with ease. We'll do laps around the house while taking out the stragglers. We have enough bullets, run and fire, that's the plan."

"They're all dead," Shane said solemnly. "Let's just go."

"We're about to but we have to do this first. This is what you do; you clean up things when other people don't have the nerve. So Shane, let's clean this place up."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Don't Die"

He was always the "clean up man", or at least that's how Shane looked at it. Every since both of them became deputies, Rick always was one step ahead of Shane. And like a rabbit, Rick left little shit pebbles everywhere he went. But Shane was there to clean it up and tonight would be no exception. Shane put two and two together, he figured out exactly what lured the herd to the farm.

"Carl…" Shane said aloud as he peered aggressively at the large number of walkers still loitering on the farm.

"That's the boy, right?" Phillip asked as he made sure his clips were full of ammo. "What about him?"

"He shot that gun, that had to be what brought them in this direction," deduced Shane. "Why the fuck couldn't that squirmy little shit just stay with his mom for once. I know for a fact Lori didn't tell him to follow me and Rick into the forest." Shane was more frustrated that Carl was still being so reckless and dangerous. Carl saw what happened to Sofia, yet he still followed Shane and Rick into the dark forest.

"The how doesn't matter at this point," Phillip wanted to bring his focus to the task at hand. "Can you run now?"

"More, _less_."

"Good, run and shoot. Where going to lure them away from the house but we are going to use suppressors. No point in bringing any more of these motherless sons of bitches out of the forest with noise. Once there are sufficiently away from the property we dart for the door. Remember, run and shoot; by no means due I plan to kill them all with this method. But it will give us a clear shot into the house. The fact that the doors are closed and windows aren't broken yet is promising."

"Say it's not barricaded and we get in, that doesn't solve our bigger problem. What do we do with all those walkers?"

"Simple, we take to the roof, that door looks like it could lead us to the roof. Who's door is that?" Phillip pointed to the large door surrounded by thin white columns. It brought a Victorian flair to the farm home.

"It's it in the hall, near the Old Man's room. Let me guess, we hit the roof, and light up the walkers beneath us?" Shane couldn't help but give his classic dark grin as the gears clicked in his mind.

"Bingo."

"Just one problem," interjected Shane, Walsh wasready to take crap right on the cloud that Phillip was on.

"I don't have a suppressor let alone one for an assault rifle. Do you?"

Phillip gestured to the dark duffle bag in his shoulders. "I never leave home without one."

Shane sucked his teeth, "Fucking show off."

"You have no idea," promised Phillip.

 **15 Days since "Patient 0"**

 **Miami, FL**

Phillip and Austin had sat silently for the past six hours in their hotel room. Using a silent drone they surveyed Lo Lupo's property in the ritzy South Beach, Miami neighborhood. Usually the mood is merry when the couple would work together. But every since Phillip withdrew 1/10th of the couples savings to sponsor some musical venture they had been at odds.

The tension was so thick a kitana couldn't penetrate but neither man said anything to the other. They both just watched the monitor as the drone scanned the area.

"There," Phillip finally said. "Lo Lupo, I see him by the pool and he's got company?"

"I see them," Austin croaked, "Let's move out." Austin really didn't want to talk to Phillip if he didn't have to. The faster they got this over with, the faster they can get through with this divorce.

"Whoa, 'the hell you mean, ' _move out_ '? We know the place has cameras all over it and we clearly see at least five gun men surrounding him. I'm not just going to run in there with a 'so-so' plan and no exit strategy. What is this, a suicide mission? 'Cause I didn't see a _murder-suicide-pact_ in our pre-nuptial agreement."

A grim frown sunk into Austin's face, his box-like jaw tightened as did his chestnut eyes. Time had been friendly on the forty year old Sicilian; he still maintained his Richard Creena good looks. The stressful toll of the failing marriage, the birth of Cameron and Phillips _numerous_ extracurricular activities was visible on Austin's face.

"Why not I listen to another one of your ideas. Go head, wise guy. Tell me some more shit I don't know. You're just a waterfall of great ideas aren't you?"

Phillip wasn't going there with him, not right now. This is exactly why they were divorcing, Austin was smothering him and had been for years. "Look, you're hot blooded, I get that-I am too. But this was supposed to be a vacation, you know the only way I can tolerate you is unless I get to kill something and of course get paid. But when I signed up for this assignment, I just assumed we would have a more thought out plan."

Austin let out a deep sigh before he started to reload his hand gun. "What do you suggest, Phillip?"

"There's about 45 more minutes of daylight, I'm thinking a night siege would probably be a lot more inconspicuous then just charging in there. We sneak in there through the pool house, according to the layout it connected to the garage which will get us in the main house.

"Only six men were spotted so I am not expecting that much opposition. We park the PYTHON up the street, because when we clear the house we are _the hell_ out of here. We drive straight to Palm Coast, drop off the wagon and fly back to Boston."

Boston.

The word "Boston" felt like an arrow throw Austin's chest. Phillip was serious about wrapping up this divorce. Philip postured and threatened ending the marriage but Phillip would deliver the final blow. "You really want to go through with this?"

"No point in stalling. See you in 45 minutes. I need some air."

 **85 Days since "Patient 0"**

 **Senoia, GA**

Hershel brought Lori a small jar off soup Maggie made over an open fire. The soup consisted of Chicken bouillon cubes, canned string beans and tuna fish. The soup was awful, but Lori needed to keep up her strength. And strength, just like love, was in low stock in Lori's life.

"Oh thank you, Hershel, you know you don't have to take care of me," Lori said.

"I remember when my first wife Josephine was pregnant with Maggie," began Hershel, "one thing she hated was how the pregnancy slowed her down. And more importantly, she had no tolerance for people treating her like a child. But I can't help it, babies just excite me. The prospect of new life, a chance for the future."

"I want to feel good about this pregnancy, Hershel, God knows I do. But the circumstances around this pregnancy is less than ideal." Lori began to shovel spoonfuls of brothy soup down.

"The dead, I know," Hershel released Lori from his fatherly gaze and looked out into the horizon. "I imagine that whatever is happening can't last forever. Women gave birth during The Plague, famines, even the Holocaust."

Lori could feel a kick in her stomach. It wasn't the baby, it wasn't the soup; it was the imagery that popped into her head. "Most of those children didn't make it, Hershel," Lori reminded.

"And many of them did and they helped tell the story of their survival. _Your_ baby will tell the story of our survival. The world has had tragedies before, Lori. And most of those were far longer than this predicament we are in. So we can't give up, you haven't even got through your first trimester."

Lori couldn't help but laugh with Hershel. It was a much needed laugh, "I remember what it was like when I had Carl, it was awful. Besides the ever-growing stomach and the constant fear that I wouldn't lose the weight. Now, I have to worry if my child will be malnourished."

"Rick is quite the provider, he and the others will find food."

"You're right, Hershel. Rick, Daryl, Glenn, T-Dog and even Maggie always go out there and risk their lives for us. I can't stand the thought of Carl being out of my sight let alone imagine him out there hunting for food. As a parent, it must terrify you."

"Maggie has always been an intrepid spirit, even as a child. I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried every time she went out there. But she goes out there with Glenn and Rick and Daryl. We take care of each other, Lori. So my little girl, just like your baby, is in good hands."

"You've probably noticed the energy between me and Rick," Lori said, she knew between all the yelling and Rick's distance, the group was hip to their marital strife.

"These things happen," Hershel said placing a caring hand on Lori shoulder. "Strong marriages like yours aren't immune to this."

"You don't get it, Hershel," Lori shook her head, this marriage could not be saved. "The baby isn't Rick's… At least," Lori paused for a moment, "I don't _know_ that it is."

Hershel was somewhat confused, but he didn't want to change his paternal tone into a judgmental one. "Who else's could it be?"

"Shane." Hershel's silence was thick, Lori took the initiative to explain herself. "When everything started, Rick was in the hospital. Rick went into a coma after being shot on the job two months before. After the infection, everything fell apart, government, the police, the hospitals. Doctors began to abandon patients, some were even killing them in their beds. Shane _said_ he tried to save him but Rick had died at the hospital. Come to find out that was bullshit. Then me and Shane…" Lori took another pause before letting out a sigh "it just happened."

"Those two had a special friendship, correct? Almost like brothers?"

"Shane was over my house every Friday night, he would eat dinner with us and then watch basketball with Rick. On Sunday, well, _special_ Sundays, we would even see Shane in church. Shane was a part of our life for so long. So when it all fell a part I guess I just felt close to him already. It was stupid and selfish."

"It was also human," said Hershel. "You can't beat yourself up over this anymore. Maybe Rick will forgive you, maybe one day he won't. But that doesn't change anything. You are still his wife and under all that hurt, I know he loves you."

"Do you think so," Lori said as a lone tear slid down her right cheek.

"I'm confident," Hershel promised.

Under the hurt Rick did love Lori but that love was covered under Shane's blood. Shane's thick, sticky, blood was all over Lori and possibly even inside of her. Growing and festering, this infuriated Rick. Rick felt like the best way of avoiding the ghost of Shane was by avoiding Lori.

Shane tightened his suppresser around the tip of his firearm. He watched as Phillip surveyed the area, Phillip was unfamiliar with the layout of the farm so he wanted to be aware of any potential exits. "We _really_ goin' through with this, man?" asked Shane.

"Didn't you want to see how it ended here? Wasn't your dramatic exit all about this farm? Well, we're here."

"It's clearly overrun, whoever was here is either dead or gone. I just don't see much of a point."

"Closure, my friend," Phillip said. "Closure… No more stalling, my nylons are up, how about yours?"

Shane shook his head with dismayed before aiming his weapon towards the farm. "Fuck it, man, let's do it."

"Now we're talkin', Yosemite Sam" Phillip said. Phillip quickly retrieves his guns before running towards the farm house.

Shane was taken aback by how impulsive Phillip was; it reminded him of himself. Shane got the chance to look from the outside in and realized how insane it all looked. Shane reluctantly followed Phillip into the farm's fields. Phillip fired bullets in the brains of two walkers, the pop of the gun attracted the attention of the others.

Shane followed up with a string of bullets killing four other walkers. The two men then darted to the left, luring the dead further away from the house. As Shane ran pass a walker, he smashes the butt of the AK against the cranium of the zombie. The sheer force of the blow killed the creature. Shane and Phillip however both meet at a common point and the dead, about 20 in number, are heading towards them. Luckily, the men have many yards before the dead could reach them.

"We have a clear shot," Phillip announced before pointing his right berretta at the door right beyond the wall of the dead.

"How do we get pass them without them biting our faces off?"

"Ever play football?" Phillip said before reholstering his weapons. Phillip dug in his duffle bag that was strapped to his back and retrieved his helmet.

"Yeah, I was a legendary running back, what the fuck does that have to do with any of this?"

"Still remember how to _'hit'_?" asked Phillip before sliding on his helmet. "I cut through and you follow my lead, we are heading for the door. On three."

The dead was inching ever closer as Phillip prepared to lunge. "ONE! TWO! THREE!" Phillip darts off and like a wrecking ball, he tears through the walkers. Shane couldn't run as fast, the cut from rick was again bleeding and seeping out his endurance. But Walsh kept up, he used his weapon like a mallet, knocking out walkers as he ran through them.

The two men made it to the three stairs leading to the porch. Luckily for the two, the door was unlocked. During the pandemonium from the herd, the Greene family left their doors unlocked. The two men dart inside of the home. Phillip quickly slams and locks the door and presses his body against it to barricade himself in. Shane astutely push the couch towards the door with Phillips assistance.

"What in the hell are we doing?" Shane now joining Phillip with his back against the couch blocking the entrance and the famished walkers.

"What does it look like, I'm catching my breath," Phillip's Manhattan accent slipped through, he usually does a good job of adopting a Midwestern accent when he speaks to strangers. The mental game Phillip was playing with Shane was getting intense and even _he_ couldn't keep up with his own puzzle.

Little did Phillip know, to Shane, a Yankee was a Yankee. Whether if it was Detroit or Boston, if it was above the Mason-Dixon, it was a Yankee. Shane was more concerned by the walkers smashing through the windows.

"Next time bring your inhaler, we gotta move!" Shouted Shane, he quickly pulled Phillip to his feet.

"How do we get to that balcony, Walsh?"

Shane quickly scanned the area. "This way!"

 **15 Days since "Patient 0"**

 **Miami, FL**

"Since we are heading back to Boston right after this thing, we should probably discuss our assets," Austin announced as Phillip finished lacing his boots.

Austin thought he was throwing Phillip a Hail Mary Pass with this topic. What he never learned about Phillip in all the years they were together was Phillip was truly fearless. "I think we should divide all joint accounts down the middle, especially since they're just over Two-hundred-fifty _K_. We did a very good job of keeping our money separate."

"Except for the part when you took eight-twenty-five like I was so fucking senile and I wouldn't notice it. Never pegged you for a thief."

" _Thief?"_ Phillip asked, arching his right eyebrow. "Look, I disregarded the fact that you were actually born in Jersey City and you know I _loathe_ New Jersey. So we're not going to fight with each other. We've done that for sixteen months. If that was going to fix it, we wouldn't be on this hellish 'vacation'."

"Not a bad payday, ATLAS is paying 1.1 million for Lo Lupo's head," Austin hadn't made this much for one kill since 2005. "Glass half-full."

"And we're splitting that down the middle as well," added Phillip.

Phillip banished those thoughts out of his head. Then it dawned on him why he was remembering that day. He learned a lesson from it, even when your world has turned to ashes it doesn't mean it's over. Sometimes the cosmos will allow you to reshuffle the deck, to get another chance.

Shane led the men up the stairs and the walkers were close behind them. With one kick, Shane opened the balcony door. "Watch your step, it divides in the middle, head to the left!" Shane commanded. Phillip complied, leaping over the wooden gate and landing on the roof top. Shane did the same and the walkers poured onto the balcony and it took only five to break the dense wooden rails. The walkers clumsily slid off the roof in their impulsive attempt in eating Phillip and Shane.

"Hahaha, fuckwads!" chuckled Shane as he watched the rotting bodies slide and scrape down the roof. Shane aims his weapon and begins to release a meteor shower of bullets at the walkers who desperately reached for Shane's visible frame.

Equipped with his silenced M-16, Phillip joined in clearing up the dead beneath them. When Shane ran out of bullets, Phillip casually passes Shane another clip which he catches with his right hand. He quickly reloads, his dark eyes brighten with his passionate rage. But Shane enjoyed the fire that destroying walkers brought, he shared this passion with Phillip. It didn't take long until there was nothing beneath them but bone, flesh and blood. A pulpy mess beneath the home.

The two men both scanned the grounds, looking for a moving limb or a gurgling moan of the walkers. But there was only a thick silence and the smoky air from the gunfire. Shane crept closer to the end of the roof "Well, looks like we got 'em."

Panting, lying on the roof, spent from the battle, Phillip croaks, "And _that_ was the easy part. Now comes the hard part: identification."

Shane cuts his eyes at Phillip, "Can't say I'm looking forward to this."

"Come on, let's just get this over with," Phillip said as he slid off the roof and on to the corpses of the walkers below. "No time like the present."

Rick watched as Glenn and Maggie returned back to the camp, Rick could tell from their disheveled look what they were doing. _Good for them,_ thought Rick. Happiness wasn't in a large supply so Rick was content when anyone found it. But Rick noticed that the two were rushing as if to reports something.

" _Rick_!" Glenn said in a high nasally hiss.

Rick popped to his feet and ran towards Glenn, his left hand on his revolver. Daryl followed as well, no way Glenn wouldn't be making a big fuss if there wasn't something important. "What's wrong, you see something out there in that forest?"

"Rick, we found a place!" Glenn announced with glee. His face bubbled with happiness because he knew rick would love it.

"Well, tell me about it?"

It's a mile west of here, it looks to be an old tavern, but the best part is it's covered in security bars and metal shutters. There's no way walkers can penetrate it."

"What about people, how the hell we supposed to get in?" Daryl said allowed. "Unless you got a bazooka I don't know about."

"That's the thing, it has a roof entrance," Maggie added. "Me and Glenn were already inside, there are no walkers; all you have to do is climb a ladder leading to the roof."From the looks of its been closed since before the outbreak."

"Alright, let's move the camp there temporarily. Daryl get T-Dog, Carol, I'll get Carl and Lori, and Maggie you get Hershel and your sister. We move out now."

"No time like the present," remarked Daryl. And with his right index finger, Dixon pointed into the horizon were a small herd of walkers were descending upon the camp.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Atlas

Shane was spent; he collapsed on the roof.

"Don't tell me you passed out again?" Phillip shouted to Shane from the ground. Disgusted, Phillip said under his breath he chastised, "Un-fucking believable."

"I'm just catching my breath, at least I don't try to take a load off in the middle of a crisis," Shane countered.

 _Touché_ , thought Phillip. "Well, do you plan on ID'ing these people any time soon?"

The stickiness of Shane's blood glued the Kevlar black jump suit to his frame. This indicated that he had bled out for a very long time. "I popped my stitches," Shane complained.

"Why didn't you say something earlier? I'll be up in a second," replied Phillip. Phillip noticed the house still had three remaining walkers. "There's some stragglers, give me a few minutes."

He made quick work of the dead, his bowie blades sliced through the skulls of the walkers with ease. A dark grin of satisfaction crept on Phillip's face as the corpses fell to the ground. His hazel eyes inspected the living room. It was rather basic, the family couch was pushed to the side and bags of gear was stacked in the room. The clutter indicated that whoever was here left in a hurry and didn't take any of their tools. Phillip suspected Shane's friends were dead.

His eyes caught a large photograph of a dark haired girl smiling in her cap and gown. Her smile was broad, warm and inviting. Phillip continued to search the house, ensuring the dead weren't wandering about in the closets. "Score!" Phillip exclaimed rushing over to the tan guitar that lay against the wall. The guitar was found by Dale and intended for Glenn but today, it was Phillip's.

Phillip joins Shane on the roof, Shane managed to take down the form fitting combat suit exposing his torso. "What the hell you gonna do with that guitar, _Darius Rucker_?"

"Darius – _who_? Anyway, never you mind. Let me see that wound," Phillip dropped the guitar and retrieved the large black duffle bag stuffed with goods. Retrieving medical supplies, Phillip cleaned up Shane's wound.

"I thought the Fairy Godfather was the medic," Shane taunted.

"First off, that's my husband you're talking about, so watch your fucking mouth. Secondly, you have the phrase 'Lil Bird' on your tit, which opens a Pandora's box of questions. And lastly, I'm a proficient battle trauma medic, I did those stitches in your face by the way."

"For a guy who indulges in sarcasm during seventy-five percent of the conversation you _really_ are sensitive," Shane noted. "Ouch! Can you watch that needle?"

"Sorry if I'm not being gentle during this crude stitch job," retorted Phillip. "Now stop moving, I'm almost done."

Luckily for Shane, Phillip managed to close the wound. He sponged the blood surrounding the deep cut in Shane's chest. Phillip used wrap bandages around his ribcage to help bind and secure the wound. "Alright, then," Phillip said after taking a good look at his work, "You look like Tutankhamun, but you should be good at this point."

The officer was appreciative, "Thanks man, it feels pretty tight."

"Not the first time I heard that one tonight," remarked Phillip coyly.

It took Shane a second before he let out a grossed-out shutter. "T-M- _fucking_ -I, man."

"Hey, stop bitching," Phillip replied. "I probably should have brought some pain killers."

"Hell, yeah. That would have been nice."

"Luckily for me, I got the next best thing," said Phillip. On the breast pocket of Phillip's jump suit he retrieves a small silver cigarette case. With his thumb, he opened the shiny box and removed one brown thin cigar.

"What is that: reefer?" the officer asked.

"You did not just say _reefer_ ," phillip chuckled. "I feel like I'm in a Blaxploitation film. _This_ guy talkin' about ' _reefer_ '."

"Well I'll pass on your dope," Shane shunned. "You picked a perfect time to microwave your brain with drugs."

"Yep, but if I had percocets you would be diving for them like a _Hungry-Hungry-Hippo_. What's wrong? Is the officer afraid of the _'whacky-tobacky'_? Is the officer afraid that he'll get piss tested? Is Sherriff Walsh afraid that he would get kicked off the force for smoking a doobie?" Phillip's voice was nasally and taunting.

"Give me that _fucking_ thing!" growled Shane before he finally snatched the cigarillo from Phillip. "You got a light, or something?"

Phillip passed Shane the small book of matches hidden within the cigarette case. Shane placed the cigarillo between his lips and fumbled with the book of matches. He struck the flame and inhaled the smoke then quickly released a puff through his nose. Shane took in another puff before passing the cigarillo to Phillip.

"Look at you, a hypocrite," chastised Phillip. "No coughing, no wheezing, clearly you are not a novice."

Shane flashed his classic devilish grin. "It's like riding a bike. I haven't smoked this stuff since college."

"You actually _went_ to college?" teased Phillip. "I guess I shouldn't have judge your level of intelligence by your _'aww shucks'_ accent.

"Fuck you!" Shane replied before both men erupted into a laughter. Shane looked over a noticed that phillip was babysitting the MJ. "Aren't you supposed to be passing that by now? Don't you know the rules?"

"Look at the little dope fiend," Phillip said before passing the rolled cigar to Shane.

"Where did you find this, anyway?" Shane asked before taking a sharp hit.

"On one of our raids: all police stations have an evidence room," Phillip said before giving a hardy stretch. "So I pick up a little sour diesel."

"Just two of you making runs like that?" Shane said passing the blunt back to Phillip.

"With a third, just imagine what we can do?"

Shane thought about the prospect of teaming with Phillip and Austin. Both Phillip and Austin were far more hardcore than Rick so he knew that together they could be quite the force. The two men smoked until there was nothing left but a charred butt. Shane's mind was elevated, he hadn't smoked in years so he was significantly higher than he thought he was.

"Why did you grab Dale's guitar?"

Phillip shrugged, "I felt inspired."

"Can you even play?"

Phillip cut his eyes at Shane before shrugging again. He smoothly retrieves the guitar and crosses his legs, positioning himself to play. He softly tickled a few cords before tightening the strings. Shane sat up, curious at what phillip could actually do. _"_ Alright, Prince, give me some _'Purple Rain'_ ," Shane teased.

Shane's eyes were puffy and red, his lips spread by a friendly smile. Phillip began to play a few cords before playing what appeared to be a lost, isolated cord. The way phillip played the guitar led Shane to think he really didn't know what he was doing. That was until those lost chords began turn into an _Asus_ Chord followed by G Chord. The distortedness of the chords became a softer, more coherent melody.

Phillip closed his eyes and released a smoky but rather silky vocal:

"How many special people change  
How many lives are living strange  
Where were you while we were getting high?  
Slowly walking down the hall  
Faster than a cannon ball  
Where were you while we were getting high?"

Shane loved Oasis; the British band never made a wave in the antebellum south, but Shane loved the album _What's The Story Morning Glory_ , especially this song. Shane's body was completely engaged.

Passionately phillip sang:

"Some day you will find me  
Caught beneath the landslide  
In a champagne supernova in the sky  
Some day you will find me  
Caught beneath the landslide  
In a champagne supernova  
A champagne supernova in the sky"

Phillip abruptly stopped, he realized that he was doing something that he promised himself he would never do again: sing. Shane was disappointed, Phillip sounded amazing! His voice was a mix between Chris Cornell with a twist of soul. Shane hadn't heard music in over a year so this small treat was highly appreciated.

"So yeah," confessed phillip. "I'm not too bad."

"You were amazing," Shane exclaimed. "Man, with a voice like that you could have been… Wow, man, you can really sing."

"It doesn't matter now," Phillip dismissed with another shrug before putting the guitar down.

"That's a _crock_ ," Shane replied.

"Yeah, I'll be going on tour soon. I'm sure most of the attendees will be the undead."

"With pipes like that I can see why even the dead would be in attendance," Shane said before giving Phillip a friendly shove. "But I am not telling you something you didn't know already."

"That's what makes it all the more tragic, I had a contract, I had tour dates. Granted everything was just beginning for me, I wasn't exactly a star but I was _developing_. My personal life wasn't exactly stellar but I was at the cusp of something great. Before all of this, I was about to live my dream."

"And then?"

"Then.. Then the dead started to walk."

Boykins, Virginia

 **12/13/2004**

 **2103 Days before Patient 0**

Phillip really hated spending time with his grandmother, besides her daily mulatto-jokes, he truly hated the prison-like compound. The Honeycutt Estates were known for their large walls designed to keep people off their property. Phillip never enjoyed the high walls encompassing the property, he felt like he was trapped in a labyrinth. But it was his birthday, his 18th at that, Phillip was going to be jovial even if the day is looking glum already.

Phillip hastened his body out of his bed, his 5'7 frame was still developing. His curly jet black hair was cut low then, during this time phillip wanted to fit in, not stick out. During this time, phillip was somewhat shy and reserved. He could hear his alarm blare in the background, "Ughhhh! I'm so not in the mood for this."

Like clockwork, Phillip popped out of his bed 5:45 AM. Every morning , Phillip would do a 3 mile jog to start his day, it was one of the things he picked up from ATLAS. Ever since phillip was a young boy he was affiliated with the intense after school program called ATLAS and even on his birthday, Phillip stayed on schedule.

Phillip loved running away; he equated it flying. As the teen ran through the country grounds at The Honeycutt estates he noticed just how beautiful Virginia was in early December. He admired the soft pillowy snowflakes dance in the air as they gently fell from the heavens. Phillip's ears were stuff with earphones and 311's "Love Song" poured into his ears. Phillip extended his arms like a crane, shut his eyes and pretended to take flight as the guitar riffs flooded into his ears.

He ran into his mother in the kitchen after re-entering the home. "Hello dear, how was your run."

"It didn't suck," Phillip said while grabbing an apple from the dish in the center of the large cherry wood table.

"Hey, wash your hands, what's the matter with you?" Barb said. Barbs voice was a smooth Long Island brogue.

"Hey, it's my God Damn birthday," Phillip countered, challenging his mother with profanity.

"Hey, hey, watch your foul-fucking mouth," Barb said before smacking her son upside his head. "Who friggin' raised you?"

"Clearly an abusive Congresswoman from New Hampshire. I'm confident if CPS knew that you used violence to get your point across it could ruin your chances at re-election." Phillip loved taunting his mother, they developed a very close relationship. Barb had Phillip at a young age and considered him her twin soul.

"Look here you little asshole," Barb began, "I'll be god-damned if you are that twat, Alexander Gibney, cause me to lose that election. I did not spend my life being one of the few respected progressive-Republicans in Congress to be dethroned by a high school student or a democrat who doesn't even have a diploma. Now eat your fucking eggs, they're good for you." Barb gave her son a quick wink before placing a kiss on his forehead.

Barbara Honeycutt Akins was a beautiful woman, she stood a statuesque 5'11 with ample curves. Her healthy lifestyle kept the forty-three year old brunette in awesome shape. Touted as the Lynda Carter of Congress, people were disarmed by her beauty. But it was Barbs strong dominate personality that was a force to be reckoned with.

Phillip came from strong stock, his mother was a force of nature in the US Congress and his father, Arthur Phillip Akins, was one of 3 African-American high level Five Star GAF's (General of the Air Force). With these kind of connections, it was no surprise that Phillip was allowed to rub elbows with the elite. Phillip's impressive grades and athleticism also helped him get into every school that he wanted, except Harvard or Princeton.

"I'm going to go 'head and play the race card," Phillip said as he gobbled down his eggs, scrambled with cheese. "With my grades and resume, there is no reason why I didn't get into Harvard or Princeton."

"Bullshit, dear," Barb said before placing bacon strips on her son's plate. "You got into NYU and Dartmouth College, which is in New Hampshire, after all." Barb wasn't thrilled that her son was moving away, he was her only child. After Phillip's father died, Barb had fallen into a depression and her son was the only anchor she had. She wasn't ready to let go just yet.

"NYU doesn't count," Phillip countered.

"Well you can always take a year off. I remember when I-"before Barb could finish her statement a blast rang out through the house that sent Barb flying backwards and landing against the fridge. Phillip's eyes dilated with horror when he saw a masked gun men, dressed in all black holding a pump action rifle. The gunman's face was covered in a ski mask, but based off his attire, he looked too professional to be just your random stick up kid. Furthermore, who could breach a property with high walls and security at the gate? Phillip didn't have the free time to think about anything, he only had time to act.

Phillip instinctively ducked under the table as the gunman who was but yards away began to approach. The teen's eyes darted around as he searched for an escape route, in the background he could hear the echoed steps of the gunman as he entered the kitchen. Sweat beads collected on Phillips face, he held his breath as he waited for the inevitable shot. Phillip however received a reprieve; mounted under the table was a small handgun. _Thank you, grandma_! Phillip was confident this was the work of his NRA loving Nana.

Phillip quickly grabbed the black handgun, he had no time to check if it was loaded. Phillip rolls from under the table and desperately crawls to the hall the leads to the living room. Phillip could hear another blast that smashed the large mirror to the right of him. Knowing he only had half a second, Phillip pivots and returns a chain of bullets.

Bullets slammed into the masked man knocking him to the ground. Phillip exhaled in relief, he removes his clip and realizes he only has three more bullets. _There could be more_ , thought the young Phillip. He carefully creeps over to the masked man, he was led by his firearm for safety. Phillip quickly kicks the body, his handgun pointed at the masked figures face. Phillip could see the crimson blood pool under the body of the insurgent. The teen kicked again and again and no response.

Phillip released a small sigh the teen then realized that his mother had been shot. He quickly turns away from the slain masked man to tend to his mother who lay mutely on the ground. From behind and crushing blow landed on Phillip's head, knocking him clumsily to the ground. Before he could stand he felt a vicious kick to the stomach, the kicked forced the air from his body. Phillip struggles to stand as the dark leather boot struck his ribcage with crushing force.

He could barely see the figure attacking him, but he wore the same dark garb and mask as the previous assailant. Phillip's eyes darted around the room, looking desperately for a weapon or something that he could use to his advantage. _There!_ Phillip thought noticing the discarded shotgun laying only a few feet away. But the second Phillip discovered the weapon the attacker delivered another kick to Phillip's ribs.

He kicked Phillip with almost a glee as if he enjoyed watching Phillip squirm, Phillip would use this sadistic behavior to his advantage. Every kick that the mask figured delivered, Phillip would pivot himself sneakily closer to the gun. But Phillip thought he was far more clever than he truly was.

"Look at you trying to be all clever," the mask man said in a thick cockney accent before kicking the gun far away. "What's wrong, _poof_? Did you lose something?"

"No," Phillip moaned out before finally locking eyes with his attacker his eyes darting to the killers utility belt. "Found something." Phillip quickly retrieves the hunting knife the was holstered at the man's waist and immediately drops it into his thigh with brutal force.

"BLOODY HELL!" cried out the man, his voice youthful in nature, no older than his very early twenties.

Phillip capitalized smashing his forehead in the figures face knocking him to the ground. With a tuck and roll Phillip was on top, as he mounted his opponent he punished him with monstrous punches. Blood trickled down Phillip's nose and red drops contrasted against the dark ski mask. Left, right, left, right… Phillips rage burned and the man all but begged Phillip for a reprieve.

"TIME!" a deep, gravely and rusted voice demanded and even more dark dressed men entered the room wielding assault weapons all pointed at Phillip. His left hand around the throat of the masked figure and his right fist in mid-strike. Phillip scanned the room now completely horrified by the number men now pointing guns at him.

He was tall and big, those were the two main things that stuck out. His frame was all of six-foot-two and his two hundred and twenty-five pound body was only nine percent body fat. He took great pride in this fact. His jaw was boxed and his round lips were in a tight frown. Though thirty-one, he had begun to lose his sandy blonde hair, so he kept it cut low. But his hair problems were hidden under his crimson military beret. He wore a similar dark colored combat suit, but it was decorated with numerous badges indicating he was of high authority.

 _What the fucks goin' on here?_ Phillip thought and eventually said, "What the fucks goin' on here?"

"Well you have a real foul mouth," the man noted in a thicker New York accent, Phillip suspected Staten Island or Brooklyn. "I am Officer Austin Angelo Marco, welcome to ATLAS. Can you stop punching, Elliot? I'm sure he needs medical attention by now."

"Medical attention, you people murdered my mother!" Phillip said with rage standing to strike Austin, he ignored the soldier readying the weapons.

"Hey, hey, HEY! Hold your fire, what's the matter withchu," Austin chastised the armed men. "Barb, you can stop playing dead now."

"Well I was caught in the moment," Barb said rising from the ground. Phillip was in total shock when he saw his mother covered in what appeared to be blood. "Honey, it's all fake and let's be honest, do I ever wear sweats?"

"What?" Phillip's voiced trailed, he was truly astonished by it all.

"You make a damn good crisis actress, Barb," Austin complimented.

"Call me when you have your next false flag attack," Barb teased. "Now Phillip, this is the part where I step away. You're a man now and you've been selected to do great things. Everything I have done for you has led to this moment. This is pretty confusing but I promise you, you are destined for this. I'm gonna go get cleaned up. I'll see you in a little bit."

Barb attempted to walk away but Phillip desperately grabs her hand, "Mom, no."

"I'm done here. It's all you from this point on, it's all you." Barb walked out of the kitchen and out of Phillip's view. Phillip attempted to follow but was cut off by the gunmen.

"Get out of my way," Phillip demanded. His face tightened and Phillip growls, "This is not a multiple choice question, get out of my house."

"You talk a lot of shit for a boy who just crying for his mommy," Austin remarked.

Phillip turned around and began to charge into Austin, but the cool Italian wasn't at all threatened by the puny teen. Austin merely grinned at the prospect, "I get it, you're tough. You managed to take out two Specialist who are two classes before you. You really should be proud of yourself. I think that may be a first."

"I don't need props from you, Nuzio. All of you, get out!"

"Get out?" scoffed Austin, this kid was truly tickling him. "Look, we leave in thirty minutes. I suggest you grab your Hello Kitty sleeping bag because mommy won't be able to tuck you in for a long time."

Phillip chuckled, the blood finally ceased its trickle from his left nostril. "Who are you again?"

"Officer Austin Angelo Marco, #87." Austin voice was cool, he searched Phillips hazel eyes as the teen walked ever closer.

"#87, what is that Some _Austin Power_ ,bullshit?"

"ATLAS specialist are ranked by their skills, value, and _'resume'_. There are only one thousand active ATLAS operatives at one time. I am ranked in the top 100, in other words, one of the best."

"Yeah your cruising at #87, not very impressive, aren't you getting close to retirement age?" Phillip taunted.

Austin was very sensitive about his age, his frown deepened after Phillip's comment. "I encourage you to get packed, you probably only have twenty-five minutes now." A satisfied grinned appeared on Austin's face, he was going to enjoy breaking Phillip. Egos like Phillip's could use a little shaving.

But Phillip had other things in mind, "Ok, let me get dressed." Phillip walked passed Austin, his movement were smooth as he quickly retrieved Austin's service weapon secured at his waist. "Two in a row, you assholes really don't pay attention!" Phillip pointed the gun directly at Austin's forehead, the supporting gunmen raised their guns again.

"I _SAID_ hold your fire," demanded Austin again. "Besides, he doesn't have the bal—"

Phillip fired. A red splatter hit against Austin's forehead pain rocked Austin's face as the red paint ball exploded on impact. "I _knew_ it!" Phillip said.

Austin begin to chuckle, "Yeah, you're real smart." The Italian turned his head before quickly delivering a folding gut punch to Phillip knocking him to his knees. Austin quickly wipes his forehead, smearing the orange-red paint and ordered one of the gunmen, "Make sure you get him in the van." Austin looked at the orange red paint collected at his fingertips. Austin noticed crimson droplets of his own blood fall from the small cut that the paintball delivered. Enraged Austin added, "And make it hurt too."


	5. Chapter 5 - Conclusion

Chapter 5

"Almost Too Far Gone"

Rick and his group quickly collected their belongings before following Maggie and Glenn into the darkness. The on-coming herd was drawn by the group's camp fire and mindlessly followed them further into the forest. Rick wasn't sure how secure this abandoned liquor store was but he was sure it was infinitely safer than standing out alone in the middle of the night.

Lori's stomach was still flat and her pregnancy was not slowing her down at this time. She gripped Carl's hand tightly as she ran with him through the foliage of the forest. "Carl, we gotta keep up, baby," Lori encouraged her son who was beginning to lose steam.

"But Mom - I can't" confessed Carl.

Lori, desperate to save her son, lifts him into her arms and continued to run. Rick noticed Lori struggle to hold the ninety-five pound pre-teen. Rick grabs Carl from Lori's arms and continues to run. Daryl turns to see a struggling Carol to keep up the speed.

"Come on, now," Daryl said stopping to help Carol to her feet. "We gotta keep moving!"

The survivors could run but the wall of walkers still crept closer and closer as the group tried their best to retreat. Maggie and Glenn was able to locate the brick building, its chipped yellow paint was a grim reminder of what it was. "Here!" Glenn called out to the group.

"Let's go, move, move, move!" demanded Rick.

Phillip and Shane left the roof after sobering up. As they walked through the house, Shane was unable to recognize any of the walkers. This didn't relieve the officer, it only proved that this was all a waste of time. "There something out there I need to pick up."

"Ok, I'll raid this place for food. No way a _farm_ doesn't have anything to eat." Phillip walked off deeper into the house.

Shane remembered that Hershel banned him from his home so all of Shane's property was still outside of the house. He walks over to his tent, snuggled between Andrea and Daryl's duffle bags. He rambled through his bag in search of ammo but came across something else. Shane pulled out his old police hat and badge. The badge was a golden, Heptagram star, coated with a thin sheet of grime. He traced his fingers across the grooves and the number "2030" engraved on his badge.

" _Screw my wife?!"_ he could hear Rick's voice boom in his ears; Shane quickly turns around and points his gun aggressively. Shane drops his badge in the shuffle, he desperately searched for the source of the voice. No one was there, he tighten his eyes as he scanned the area. No one was watching, not even Phillip.

" _YOU DID THIS TO US, NOT ME!"_ Shane could hear the voice again so he fired his handgun. " _That is_ _my_ _wife, that is_ _my_ _son, that is_ _my_ _child_!" Shane quickly turned to his left and fired again. He felt surrounded, no matter where he looked, he could hear Rick. But he was invisible, Rick was nowhere to be seen but Shane could sense his spirit.

"Rick Grimes you show your face, you son of a bitch!" Shane said with hostility. "Come on out, boy!" Walsh desperately scanned the fields in search for Rick. "Come out!" Shane began to fire wildly into the night.

The blast of the handgun wasn't just heard by the dead but also by Phillip who was busy stuffing his bag with fresh fruit that Hershel had in his refrigerator. Initially Phillip assumed that Shane was facing a few walkers but noticed the frequency of the firing couple with Shane's yelling indicated something else was afoot.

Shane's heart began to race, pumping with a thick thud, the officer felt tremendously light headed. He felt trapped in a whirlpool, the constant spinning made him nauseous. Shane struggled to catch his breath, he falls to his knees and begins to wheeze with desperation. Never in his life had he felt this way, his body was assaulted by a train of somatic attacks and he had no idea what was happening to him.

Shane was having a panic attack and he had no idea. Usually, panic attacks come on soon and are commonly associated with trauma and anxiety. Shane picked a perfect time to have his first panic attack, due to the commotion he's caused, a few walkers wandered back to the farm. Shane noticed the three walkers creeping towards him, but the terror he was feeling from the panic prevented him from standing, let alone fighting.

Terrified, Shane curls himself in a fetal position and screams, "No!" as the dead descend upon him. From the darkness, silenced bullets penetrated the brains of the walkers. Phillip's assault rifle still smoked after putting down the dead. He observed Shane still in the fetal position moaning out, "Get away, get away from me."

The soldier new exactly what was happening and he didn't have to use his advance behavioral health training to know Shane was having a panic attack. Phillip was very familiar with panic attacks, he would get them often when he first began with ATLAS. The faces of the people he had to kill would haunt him, forcing him out of his sleep. Often times the soldier would sleep walk and scratch himself in his sleep. "Shane, what's going on with you? Can you hear me?"

Shane ignored Phillip's calls; he was too preoccupied with his panic attack that the outside world was all blurred and vague. "Walsh, look at me!" Phillip was desperate to break this trance.

Shane merely wept, begging his unseen assailant to leave him alone. Phillip kneeled grabbing Shane's head, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Shane, stay with me. I've been through a hundred of these before."

"Get the fuck off me!" Shane screamed before shoving Phillip away. "Just leave me alone!" Shane rolls over, his face covered by the earth and grass. Mucus collected near his nose and lips as Shane cried out in horror. "Just leave me, just leave me."

"Sorry, that's not on the menu, today," Phillip refused to abandon Shane, he'd invested too much at this point to just leave. He began to rub Shane's back, "It's ok, **you** are ok. Shane you're outside, with me -Phillip. No one can hurt you ok, now I'm going to move my hand and back away. I'm not going to go too far. When you are ready, let me know."

Shane continued to weep, he could hear Phillip but his voice was echoy and unfocused. Shane was knee-deep in the middle of a panic attack and could not be reoriented to reality at this moment. Phillip knew this was common, especially for people who weren't familiar with panic attacks. The only thing he could do at this point is just allow Shane to go through it.

The liquor store was dirty, but Lori didn't care, she cleaned a small area for her family and set up their sleeping area. Rick was with Daryl, T-Dog, and Glenn, the men were ensuring that the building was secured. Maggie and Hershel sat with Lori and Carl inside of the dank, dark building. The lit candles brought a creepier feel to the already melancholy structure.

"Are we safe?" Beth asked, her body language exposed her intense anxiety. Her blonde her placed in a shoulder tress, her forehead was wrinkled with concern. "They can't get in, can they?"

"No, Beth," reassured her sister, Maggie. "Before me and Glenn got back we looked around real good. Besides, the men are making sure everything is secured."

"It would probably be a good idea for us to keep our voices and noise down to a minimal," suggested Hershel. "We wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves."

Rick and the men returned after checking everything out, Rick saw his wife but refused to give her any eye contact. "It's clear. We keep watch in 3 hour cycles, first me, then Glenn, Daryl, then T-Dog gets the last shift. We keep noise down to a bare minimum. First light: me, Daryl, T-Dog are heading out to find some food. Glenn is going to stay here with you guys, keep y'all safe."

"Thank you, Rick," Lori said finally. "Making sure we are all taken care off."

Rick had nothing to say to Lori, his blue eyes merely focused on Daryl, completely ignoring Lori and her comment. "Daryl, I'm heading to the roof, you coming with?"

Daryl noticed how Rick completely ignored his wife, he quickly looked at Lori then back to Rick. "Sure, ain't doing anything else."

Lori's heart sank, she had no way to connect with her husband, he completely shut off his emotions for his wife. Lori had no idea that Rick could be so outwardly cold towards her, especially while she is pregnant. She was clueless to what to do at this point; Rick was completely disconnected from her. She didn't realize that every time Rick looked at her, all he saw was Shane.

Lori did have Hershel; the farmer gravitated towards young women, especially being a father of two girls. Lori and Hershel began their talks during the time Carl was recovering from being shot by Otis. "How are you feeling?" Hershel asked Lori, his smile was warm and paternal.

"Shitty," confessed Lori. "Me and Rick…" Lori couldn't even finish before tearing up.

"Marriages are hard, Lori," Hershel reminded Lori. "And yours has seen quite a few punches in recent months."

"He won't even talk to me, Hershel," Lori said through tears. "He won't argue, he won't look at me, he hates me."

"He doesn't," Hershel reassured. "He's hurting."

"I should have never ever started this?" Lori said to herself, she severed her gaze with Hershel. She was too embarrass to look at Hershel's steel blue eyes.

Hershel would not attack Lori, it wasn't his style. Hershel was there to support Lori through this entire mess, he looked at her as if she was one of his own. "Now we've discuss this before, what went on between you and Shane was a mistake. You were in a place of vulnerability, he capitalized on this."

"No Hershel, it wasn't like that?" Lori denied. "It started way before everything, before Rick _'died'_ , before Rick was shot and put in the hospital. Me and Shane, we weren't exactly an accident."

Phillip brought Shane a bottle of water, the former officer was now sitting, legs crossed, his face covered by his palms. "Hey, are you ok, buddy?" asked the soldier.

"What the hell is happening to me, Phillip?" Shane asked, the officer was beyond confused and terrified of his own mental status.

"It looks like you were having a panic attack, it's hard to say though," said Phillip, plopping himself beside Shane. "Did it feel like you were having a heart attack?"

"It felt like I was having a heart attack and drowning all at the same time."

The soldier nods affirmatively, "Than yes, _**that**_ was a panic attack, either that or you were having a _real_ heart attack." Phillip placed his hand on Shane's shoulder and gave it a quick rub, "I've been through maybe one million of those things. The only thing you can do is…let it pass."

"There were walkers, man. What was I doing: crying like a _fag_ -a girl." Shane corrected himself, conscious of how politically incorrect his term was. Especially in Phillip's company.

"Don't be silly, Shane. Faggots don't cry about things, we get _even_ ," Phillip said before removing his hand from Shane's shoulder. "It could be an approach you should adapt."

"How do I get even?" Shane asked, Phillip always had a cryptic reply, this annoyed Shane.

"Find the source of your Trauma; for me it was all the killing. ATLAS turns you into a highly proficient killing machine, but it doesn't prepare you for all the psychological baggage associated with being a gun-for-hire. Before everything fell a part I had issues with sleeping. I could only get 4 hours of rest on a good night."

"Why?"

"The voices, they kept me up. Most of the time I couldn't even make out what they were saying but I knew they were after me. Hissing and screaming at me, calling me a murderer."

Shane turned to Phillip who looked out into the gloom of night as he relived his panic attacks. Shane could relate to Phillip's experience, the voices were the main thing he could remember. "So what did you do?"

"I got even," Phillip said. "I balanced my karma by trying to do good deeds. I would help people behind Austin's back, he would go ape-shit if he knew how many times I've risked my life trying to help others."

"Why don't he want you to help people?" asked Walsh. "It's dangerous, yeah. But what the hell isn't dangerous now-a-days?"

Phillip shrugs his shoulders, "He wants to keep me alive. He loves me and he feels the best way for us to get to our destination is staying away from the locals—living and _un_ -living. We all see what's going on: you would have to bury your head in the ground not to see that the world we knew is gone. For me and Austin, if we lost each other, that would be it. That would be the last bit of our lives that we had. We would be lost. I can handle cannibal zombies, I couldn't survive losing Austin or Cameron."

"Why did you save me?" Shane wanted to know why Phillip feels so passionate about him. "Why do you think I will fit in any of this?"

"I told you, I wanted to get even. Get even with the Man Upstairs, Mother Nature, whoever is keeping watch of this entire mess. I figured that if I slide on that 'red cape' enough that maybe I will finally be able to clear my karmic credit report. I may even be able to sleep at night."

"How many hours are you catching these days?" asked the officer.

"I'm going to have to get back to you on that one," confessed Phillip. Sleep have been hit or miss, but having Austin with him helped. "I would probably sleep a little better knowing that there is a third, bad-ass, and zombie fighter with me."

Shane weighed his options: he could try his best to make it on his own. How would he sleep without someone else to play watch? Who would help him clear homes and businesses? Who would help him search for supplies? By now, Shane had built some level of trust in Phillip, he appeared genuine and honest. Phillip was straight up, like most people from New York City, he never held back his opinion. Shane appreciated the transparency and could see himself working with Phillip. Austin however, was an entirely different animal. Shane couldn't read the titan Italian, he couldn't tell if Austin hated him and only help patch him up on the bequest of Phillip.

"Look, I don't plan on staying at this graveyard much longer, if you're coming, let's go." The farm had a spooky vibe and Phillip wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Shane finally stood and walked back over to his belongings, "There's something I need to do first." He collected up his police hat, badge and managed to find his #22 golden necklace. Shane also was lucky enough to find a bottle of whiskey, abandoned by Daryl. Shane emptied the bottle over his black duffle bag saving the last swig for himself, before finishing the bottle he passes the remainder to Phillip who quickly completes the bottle.

"Where's that book of matches?" asked Shane.

With on toss, Phillip hands Shane the box of matches. He quickly strikes the match and tosses it on the whiskey soaked knapsack. A small inferno grew with a weak intensity, without taking a second to think Shane tossed his police hat into the fire. The hat burned slowly, the cottoned burned with a blue flame due to the chemicals in the hat's fabric. Shane was ready to assassinate his former self to embrace the new Shane.

He looked at his golden badge and matching golden #22 necklace that sat in the palm of his right hand. Shane began to toss them into the flames but Phillip stopped him. "Why not? I'm not a cop anymore and I'm sure as hell not going to the NFL. I don't even know who I am anymore, but I know I'm not _this._ "

"Hey I'm all for divorcing the old you if you feel like it could hold you back from being who you truly are. But we can get rid of everything in our past, but sometimes we need tokens to help us remember."

"Remember what? What is there left to remember? The world has ended."

"It hasn't ended, we're still here: _Sherriff_ Walsh."

Hershel and Lori went to a more intimate section of the liquor store. Maggie, Glenn and Beth spent time with Carl. Carol, however, kept herself busy familiarizing herself with guns with T-Dog, Carol filled the void left by Sophia's death with learning how to defend herself. Hershel passed Lori a canned of Vienna Sausages, he wanted to make sure she ate as much as possible.

"Am I disgusting because I actually have always loved these things?" Lori said before pouring out the thick liquid that cover the weenies.

"As did I," confessed Hershel. "The kids thought they were awful though. It's hard to please children when it comes to food."

"Unless they are still in the womb," remarked Lori. "Then you can almost feed them whatever you want."

"So, tell me Lori, when did this really begin with Shane?"

"It never was a thing between me and Shane," said Lori. "Shane was always around, fixing things, playing with Carl. He was the best Uncle of all time initially."

"But at some point things had to have changed," Hershel pressed on.

"Yeah, they changed," confessed Lori. "Things changed between me and Rick. It started at Carl's 12th Birthday Party-let's just say things went south quickly. The neighborhood kids got a front and center view of me and Rick's implosion. But then there was Shane. He was there to hear me vent after Rick left to go hide at his bar. After talking to Shane for about an hour, he drives up to the _Dew Drop Tavern_ and finds a very _sober_ Rick just hiding. Hiding from me."

"He sounds like a good friend, Shane," Hershel said, his memory of Shane was far sourer. "Did you call him a lot when you and Rick would quarrel?"

Lori was quiet for a second, she remembered all the times she would call Shane in tears complaining about how disconnected she felt to Rick. She remembered telling Shane how she didn't want to be alone anymore. Like a shotgun shell to the gut, it dawned on Lori that she was the true cause for Shane's death. She had been leading him on for years.

Through tears, Lori nods affirmatively, "Shane didn't have any children and couldn't keep a girlfriend more than six months. I always likened myself to the only positive female influence in his life, Shane's parents were both dead and he had very little living family. He was alone too."

Hershel was wise beyond the sixty-two years of life and he understood what it was like to have his heart torn between two people. "Lori, when Jo died I felt like I was never going to love again. I thought the only thing left for me to be was a father to Maggie. But I was wrong, a man's heart can heal and find love again. Men are sensitive, more so than women – contrary to popular belief. It could take days, sometimes months, and for the truly unlucky – years to heal. One day, Rick is going to heal too."

The tiny framed brunette began to shiver, Hershel instinctively removed his jacket and draped it around Lori. "I never touched him before this, Hershel. I swear to _God_ I didn't." Lori shook her head, purging any remaining feelings she had for Shane. If she and Rick would ever be able to move forward, she would need to completely villainize Shane in her mind. If she could bring herself to hate Shane, then maybe, she would be able to move forward with her husband.

But what Lori didn't know was the Rick had crept off the roof of the abandoned liquor store and watched his wife from afar. He listened to how she and Shane carried on a secret "relationship" for years. This infuriated Rick even more; even before Lori slept with Shane, she was already cheating on him. Hershel was hoping for a reconciliation however Rick didn't see that ever happening.

Phillip could hear a slight wheeze in Shane's breathing, initially he ignored it but it became way too loud to overlook. The two had left the farm and were heading back to the PYTHON. "Do you need to take a break?" asked Phillip.

"Naw, man," dismissed Shane, "let's keep moving."

"Yeah, but if you keel over I'm going to have to drag your sorry carcass through this forest. So we can take a quick five minute." Phillip removed a small silver tablet, 9x5 inches in size. The glass screen illuminated a soft green glow.

"What is that thing?" Shane asked inquisitively.

"It's a tablet."

"No shit," retorted Shane. "What does it do? I'm guessing you aren't uploading videos to YouTube."

"You would be right, seeing as the internet is down. However, GPS is still up and running; that leads me to believe that there are people still working to fix this. Either that or it takes a little more time before the satellites become useless. Come here, let me show you."

Shane walked over to Phillip who was entranced by the light of the tablet. When the officer got a closer look at the tablet he noticed that he was looking at a large map of Georgia. "We are here, about five miles out of Senoia. _We_ are these two lights: the green and blue." Phillip pointed out two dots: one green and one blue. The dots were waypoints that represented Shane and Phillip and they basically were on top of each other. "There is a chip in each one of the uniforms, I'm blue and your green."

"Who's this dot: the black one?" with his index, the officer touched the screen.

"It's the PYTHON," answered Phillip. Using his right and index and thumb, he spreads the map on the touch screen tablet zooming in on the black dot. Within the circumference of the black dot were a yellow and red dots. "The red dot is Austin and the yellow is buster."

Shane was impressed by their tech. _No wonder they survived this long_ , the officer thought. Between the indestructible vehicle, the _007_ -style gadgets, and their own amazing fighting skills, there was no surprised that the Marco's were still alive and kicking. "We're about five miles out, we keep heading north we should get there with very little trouble."

Phillip spoke too soon, within that very second, what appeared to be a small herd emerged through the darkness of the night, only lit by the glow of the moon. _"Shit!"_ Shane hissed said aloud.

"Great," Phillip said somewhat defeated. "Can this night get any better?"

God sometimes has a cruel sense of humor, at least that's what Phillip was taught as a child. No sooner than phillip making his childish complaint, there was a crack of lightening, followed by sheets of rainfall. "Son of a bitch!" Phillip cursed under his breath as he quickly puts away the tablet, sparing it any water damage.

"We gotta go, _now!_ " Shane quickly retrieved his assault rifle and pointed the walkers descending upon the two men. "Shoot and run, just like we did before."

Phillip cracks his M-16, "Let's do it."

The storm had picked up and forced the walkers to where Rick's group was held up. Walkers had piled up outside of the store, banging aggressively on the shutters. As a waterfall of Georgia rain fell on Rick, he fired is Remington 700 with great accuracy. Even in the rain, Rick Grimes could not be stopped.

Inside the store it was chaotic, Beth screamed in horror as the dead growled and threw their bodies into the building. The dead could sense the living inside and their hunger needed to be satisfied. While Beth and Carl both cried out in horror, Daryl and Glenn pushed debris and abandoned furniture by the entrances of the store. Even though the shutters prevented entrance, this was done just to be sure.

"Beth, it's ok, Honey. No one is getting in," Maggie tried her best to relax the blonde teen but she was too horrified to be calmed. Maggie pulled Beth in for a loving embrace, "It's ok, Beth. We're ok!"

Daryl watched Beth's meltdown, wanting to help, Dixon decides to join Rick on the roof. "I'm going up there with Rick. Best way keep them out is to drop them before they get in here. T Dog, you commin' wif?"

"Hell yeah," T Dog grabs his shotgun and followed Daryl to the roof.

Rick appreciated the support from Daryl and T Dog, the eleven walkers below were quickly exterminated by the men. "Took you too long enough," teased Rick.

"Yeah, yeah," T Dog complained. "Tell that to them down there." T Dog took a small step backwards and the weight of the man, compounded with the rain and weathered roof caused the roof to begin to collapse.

"T!" Daryl called out, grabbing T Dog's hand. Luckily for T Dog, his ankle was barely caught in the faulting roof.

"Why does this shit always happen to me!" complained T Dog.

"Cause you're a clumsy some-bitch," Daryl teased. "Yo, Rick, help me out here."

Rick assisted T Dog and Daryl from the sinking roof. What rick learned was that they couldn't stay here, the walkers and the caving roof ensured someone would die if they stayed too long. This place wasn't safe, not passed tonight. The Sherriff would stay only one night, first light Rick would lead the group to another location.

"Austin! Austin do you read me?" Phillip cried out over the radio as he and Shane ran through the muddy forest. The rain had yet to cease and the army of the dead seemed to have no end in sight.

After firing a small stream, "I'm running low on ammo," announced Shane.

"Me too," Phillip confesses. "Austin, if you can read me we are about eight miles south of the PYTHON, we are surrounded by these things. I'm out of ammo!"

"I hear you," a smoky voice finally answers through Phillip's earpiece. "And I see you, _both_ of you. Make a sharp right and head up that embankment.

Phillip quickly looks to his right and notices a flooding ridge just beyond a thin wall of walkers. Phillip knew he could tear through them with ease. "This way!" Phillip cries out. He straps his assault rifle around his shoulder and retrieves his two bowie knives that rested at his waist. Using the twelve inched, crescent blades Phillip quickly slices through the brains of the dead.

Shane followed, slamming the butt of his AK against the walker's heads as he followed Philip up the muddy embankment. The walkers struggled to pursue the officer and soldier, clumsy by nature, the walkers could barely traverse through the water and clay earth. But the two man could, Shane made it up first and assisted Phillip.

"Come on, we don't got time to take breathers," Shane said hastening Phillip to his feet.

Phillip had twisted his ankle and was in enormous pain, but he did his best to conceal it. "Austin, we're over the bank. Where to now?"

Through the darkness two light beams appeared. _"Hallelujah!_ " called out Phillip.

The PYTHON was visible to both Shane and Phillip who both hooted with excitement. As they approachd the vehicle Austin exited, the raining finally began to let up. Austin was surprised at the motley appearance of Phillip and Shane. "You look like shit," declared Austin.

"Thanks," replied Phillip.

Austin couldn't help but grin to himself before focusing his attention on Shane. "So, are you with us or not."

Shane quickly rubbed the back of his head, bashfully. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Fair enough, get it in. It's colder than an Ex-wife's heart out here." Austin lead the men back inside of the warm Humvee. Buster's large ears perked with excitement when his other master returned. Phillip quickly began to disrobe.

"I smell like brain, mixed with rain, mixed with mud, mixed with sweat," finally free of the military jumpsuit that was completely soaked, Phillip continued his rant. "Please tell me you have something warm to eat?"

"Not really," replied Austin. "There were quite a few cans of Chicken Noodle."

"Angelo, you truly are my _angel_ ," replied Phillip.

The night would eventually become day as Austin drove down the road alone. Though Phillip called shotgun, he slept quietly, swathed in a warm blanket. Shane too was sleep, after making friends with Buster, the two slept in close proximity to each other. Austin looked through the rearview mirror at Shane and Buster grinning at the sight. Buster was good at sensing a person and the dog felt comfortable enough to snuggle with Walsh, he figured he would give him a chance as well. Shane has proven to be valiant, solid, and clever. If there was ever a person deserving a second chance, Shane Walsh was that man.

"Well, you don't see _that_ every day," said Austin. As he peered through his windshield he could see what appeared to be two women walking with chained walkers. Austin noticed the dread-headed female carried a samurai sword on her back and the blonde female held a metal crow bar.

As Austin passed the women he said, "Yo, Phillip you see that shit?"

Phillip's eyes remain closed as he slept peacefully. Austin, knowing how hard it was for his husband to get meaningful rest decided to not disturb him.

"HEY, WAIT!" Andrea called out, waving her hands desperately.

"They aren't stopping," Michonne said, her tone robotic and frigid.

"Well we can at least try, that vehicle looked like military," remarked Andrea.

"And who knows who's driving that thing," Michonne replied. "Usually military vehicles drive in a convoy, not just one lone vehicle."

"Well _sorry_ for having hope in anything," Andrea said. Though she was thankful for Michonne, but she was quite the negative Nancy.

"Just because the ride looks good, doesn't mean the driver won't take you over the cliff," Michonne replied.

Andrea dismissed Michonne's negativity, but this warning was Andrea's first and only clue to what fate had in stored for her.


End file.
